It was time to see to my duties. The Council of Huntresses wanted all the woman-power they could scrape together. For quite some time, hearsay had been that times were bad for this town, Valgemaa, but I did not need rumors to know that. For the last few weeks, unease had been written across the faces of the Council's best and brightest.
As I marched from my home to the council chamber, I watched my breath flow into clouds in front of me. My fur boots scuffed softly on the frosty gravel of the burg's main street. I stayed warm beneath a thick, dark blue jacket that my grandmother had worn. Someday, I hoped to have a daughter, and I hoped that she would wear this jacket too. It was more than a garment. It was even more than a masterwork of textile-weaving. It was our family's coat of arms, simple but proud.
Stout wood and stone huts, dressed in newfallen snow, rose from either side the street. Inside, children cavorted and cackled while their mothers told them stories and their fathers cooked and crafted. Humble fires sent wisps of smoke spiraling up into the silver sky. A few teenage boys passed me in the road, dragging a cart full of fine logs. They were heading back to the farmlands, where all unmarried men lived. The boys shoved and joked at each other, then their eyes fell on me, and they all gaped. A trip into woman's territory was not an everyday experience for these farmboys, and a huntress like myself was exotic. I obliged them with a wink, then walked on.
In the center of town was a brilliant stone statue, hewn by the greatest craftswomen of a generation, showing a woman standing on a rock, holding a scroll in one hand and a map in the other. She was in full armor, with a cape billowing down from her shoulders, half-covered by her enormous train of hair. This was Medniïce, First of the Huntresses, and the founder of Valgamaa. For the thousandth time, I wished her a peaceful rest and went on.
A quarter-mile ahead, the door hung open to a brightly firelit brothel. I could see inside, where domesticated monster boys lounged over luxuriant cloths, or else they cut wood, chiseled stone and even sparred with each other.
One of the monster boys in particular caught my eye. Like most monster boys, he looked mostly human except for one distinction. His was a pair of pure-white wings that sprouted from his back, peaking a little above his shoulders and angling back down. He saw me staring at him, and his wings perked with sudden excitement.
I kept staring. I had almost certainly seen him before, but I hadn't fully appreciated what a treat he was for the eyes. His dark brown hair was somehow neat in its unruliness, and thin, soft eyebrows rode low over his aquatic blue eyes. He smiled a coy little smile, and I smiled back. But I kept walking. Perhaps I would try him later. But for now, the council wanted its best huntress. They wanted me.
The huntress' hall was a low, broad cone that squatted on the north peak of the town, its circular roof held up by great logs that were fifty feet long and generations old. To a newcomer's eye, the building would have looked stern- grim, even- but to me, it was a second home.
Inside, huntresses marched about, practicing maneuvers on the dirt in the sparring ring, testing their equipment by the forge or arguing over scrolls and tomes. Tamed monster boys skittered along beside them, carrying their goods for them, while the huntresses' human husbands stood on the sidelines, making small talk or crafting tools for them.
One of the high councilwomen walked up to me, her pace brisk. "Frigg," she said, "we have an important gathering this evening. But first, we need you to train the young one."
"Training?" I said. "I was under the impression that I was your last choice for a trainer."
"You are. We take in as many recruits as we can now, and you are the last master available."
"My apprentice- is she skilled?"
"See for yourself. That is your way, I know."
The councilwoman snapped her fingers, and in strode a young woman. She seemed to be the age of two and twenty if I had to guess her exact years, and she was clearly not from these lands. Her skin was tan and her hair blonde from heavy sun. Her full lips and blue eyes completed a bright, ornamental appearance. I found her remarkably beautiful, and I could tell that the other women felt the same.
"Hello," she said brightly, stepping up to me. "You're master Frigg Aronson, yes? I'm called Dulce. Dulce Obregón."
I was right; that was a Fulzoran name, from the sunny, seafaring lands to the south.
"Will we go hunting today?" she asked, bouncing a little on her toes. "I can't wait to make my first hunt."
I decided that a quiz would make for the best test. "Tell me what you know about the eastern flightless fairy boy."
"Eastern?" she asked, incredulous. "But they don't live this far north."
"That's true. But my order stands."
"Oh... well, they have little wings that camouflage with poppies, they're very light, they're slow runners and they're not very smart. They like the color red- no... yellow."
"All of that is correct. Now walk me through the process of capturing one."
"Okay, yes, yes, I know this..."
I smiled a little. Some girls fell apart when asked questions they had not prepared for. But Dulce was keeping her composure.
"Fairy boys leave trails of sparkles," she began. "I mean, luminescent particles. The particles hang in the air for half a day, then they turn black and fall. You can track them that way."
She stood up and looked self-satisfied.
"Keep going," I said.
"More? Well... fairy boys can't hear well, so you can stalk them normally, and when you find them, you have to careful. They scare easily, because they're a non-belligerent species, so they won't attack you. You have to... hm..."
I waited.
"Wait, that's it! They have strong senses of smell, so you have to use perfumes. Western fairy boys like plum scent. The eastern ones... I have no idea."
"That's acceptable. Suppose you come into contact. What will you do then?"
"The last step to capturing a monster boy is to make him cum. If the fairy boy comes toward me, I'll stand still, and maybe back away a little. I wouldn't hold eye contact, because they scare easily- but I already said that."
"Don't worry. It bears repeating. How do you finish him?"
"He'd try to hug me, probably. Maybe he'd fondle me a little too. I'd start slowly, get my fingers on his skin and let him get used to it, then I'd find his cock. I'd start rubbing it first, then I'd pump. Oh, yes, and I'd make sure I didn't pull back too far and stretch the foreskin. That hurts them."
"After his first orgasm, will he be docile?"
"Yes. Fairy boys have low stamina, so they go docile with just one cum. He'll be light also, so I could just carry him back here and start the obedience training."
"Correct."
Dulce beamed. I couldn't help but smile back.
"You know all that books will teach you," I said. "It's time for your masterwork. Equip yourself, and we'll go hunting."
Dulce's grin widened.
"Jens!" I called.
Moments later, a sliver-and-blue-furred catboy stepped up to us, with his ears, whiskers and tail twitching attentively. Catboys had a reputation for meanness, but Jens had a heart like newfallen snow.
